Unexpected

Chapter X

Sherlock was just coming back from a rather disappointing investigation. John was at Mary's again, this time it seemed really serious with them, and over the last few weeks Sherlock had learned to trust Jim enough to leave him alone for a short amount of time. Only this time something had gone wrong. A completely hysterical Mrs Hudson awaited Sherlock at the stairs, while loud noises emerged from his flat.

"He has completely lost his mind," she cried out, "I already tried calling you, but none of you were answering. He must have found your gun, Sherlock!"

"Get in your flat."

He stormed up the stairs and through the door where he was met with an interesting sight. Basically nothing was where it belonged. Books, furniture and other belongings were shattered everywhere and most of it pretty brutally damaged. In the middle of the whole chaos was a raging Moriarty, screaming from the top of his lungs, as soon as he realized it was Sherlock who had stepped through the door.

"YOU!!"

He stormed through the room. In the blink of an eye Sherlock absorbed the situation. The raging Moriarty in fact looked like he had lost his mind. His hair was messy, his face distorted into an angry mask and in his hand he held the formerly well-hidden Browning of Sherlock. He reached the conclusion that he should better not mess with a Jim Moriarty in his constant state, so Sherlock let him violently crush his body to the wall.

"Did you really think you could keep it from me?"

Oh no... Now Sherlock understood, a quick glance through the room confirmed his thought – Jim had found and cracked Sherlock's computer, and then found out about his recent case. Sebastian Moran.

"Obviously not, I only feared you'd react," Sherlock nodded towards the destroyed room, "exactly like that."

It had been a day after Moriarty had appeared in their flat, when Sherlock started looking into his organization. It was clear that someone would try to take it over and at the same time this meant the moment of chance to destroy it all had come for Sherlock. Unfortunately the whole taking-over had been going much faster and smoother than expected, for the simple reason that the right hand of Moriarty had survived his execution. Hence it has all fallen to the smart, perfectly trained, and, most of all, feared Sebastian Moran.

The moment Sherlock had found out, he knew it would strike back Jim to a dark place and after all he had been going through, Sherlock couldn't do this to him until he had found and ended Moran. That was what had kept him too busy from minding the danger in his own home. It had only been a matter of time until Jim figured out the different stages of security Sherlock had installed for that matter.

"Jim, I'm sorry."

Much to his surprise Jim let go of Sherlock and took a few steps back.

"AND. DO. YOU. THINK. THIS. CHANGES. ANYTHING??"

With every word Moriarty shot the wall above Sherlock's head and then turned around, suddenly falling onto his knees. Silence. The shoulders of the suddenly tiny looking man, cowering in the middle of the room, started to shake slightly. Very slowly, step by step, Sherlock approached and lowered himself on his knees in front of Jim.

For once in his life Sherlock instantly knew what to do. He carefully wrapped his arms around Jim. As gently as possible he let his hand wander onto Jim's, which was holding the gun. He let go of it unresistingly. Sherlock put the safety on and threw it somewhere behind him, not because he was scared Jim could shoot at him again, but because he was afraid Jim could hurt himself in his current state.

And then, Sherlock simply held him.

They sat like that for minutes, Sherlock's knees were burning and his shirt soaked with tears but all this didn't matter in this particular moment. What mattered was the broken man in his arms.

After a long, long while Jim calmed down.

"Why do you keep caring about me, Sherlock," he whispered against his chest. Sherlock didn't answer, for the simple reason that he didn't know either.

Jim pulled back and wiped his nose. He truly looked miserable.

"Sorry, for the mess and everything."

"I'm sorry too," Sherlock confessed. From the inside pocket of his coat he took out a tissue that he kept there for emergencies, which this definitely was, and handed it over to Jim.

"It hurts so much," he sniffed.

"Jim, listed to me," Sherlock took his head into his hands and lowered his face closer Jim's, "this rat hurt and betrayed you and I will bring him down for that. But you must. not. let him do this to you. You must not let him destroy you. Listen to me, you're brilliant. From the first moment I heard your name, I was fascinated by you and those past weeks have shown me how much more there is to you than I could have ever imagined. Jim Moriarty, you... you're..."

There was this tight feeling in Sherlock's chest, he couldn't express it but it felt like he would burst any moment. It was this goddamn maniac that did this to him, the way his dark brown eyes stared at him. Those eyes with their dilated pupils and the quick pace of breath Sherlock could feel under his hands.

Jim's eyes flickered away from Sherlock's for a moment. He did not understand it at first, only when Jim slowly started getting closer to Sherlock, centimetre to centimetre. Sherlock stopped breating. 

It was a soft kiss, barely a second long but it was a kiss.

Jim leaned back again, his eyes full of fear. Sherlock was not moving, neither breathing, he was completely frozen.

Had Jim finally crossed a line? Did he get the signs wrong? Did he mess it all up?

"Can we do this again," Sherlock whispered, barely audible.

More emotions than Sherlock could even name were floating over Jim's face. Then very slowly and gently, Jim took Sherlock's neck into his hand and pulled him towards his face again. That strange feeling in Sherlock's chest grew larger, filling his whole body. He had no idea what he was doing, but Sherlock wanted more. He pushed his body forwards while simultaneously pulling Jim closer, so the two men's bodies were... touching. It seemed like he had done something right, because Jim sighted and then deepened the kiss. Suddenly Sherlock felt a tickling brush against his lower lip. Out of sheer surprise and... pleasure, he opened his mouth, what Jim took as permission to enter his tongue. Jesus Christ.

From some part of Sherlock's body, a sigh forced his way to the surface. Jim's hands found their way into the detective's locks and he pulled at them passionately. Sherlock lost it. A proper, loud moan filled the living room of 221B Baker Street. Shocked about his own sound Sherlock dug his nails into Jim's skin but in no way breaking from that exhilarating and thrilling experience.

"HOLY MOTHER OF GOD!"

As surprisingly as the situation had overcome the two men, it ended again. Sherlock shrank back, to face a completely knocked back John standing in the doorway.

Jim could have killed John that exact moment if it hadn't been for Sherlock. But there was a more serious problem. Sherlock stiffly got to his feet and Jim followed his suit.

John was still staring at the crazy scenario of two enemies that had just made out in the middle of his completely trashed flat.

"Sherlock...??"

The detective avoided looking into Johns face. Then suddenly Sherlock rushed past Jim and John with great steps, tackling his best friend quite unpleasantly. The next second he was gone.

"What was that?" John tried addressing Jim. He slowly turned around facing John now. The look on his face was enough for John to know he should better not say a single word. Quickly jumping to the side he made room in the doorway where Moriarty walked through slowly, still just in a t-shirt although it was freezing outside, he slowly and quietly walked down the stairs and disappeared through the front door.

As John was standing in the deserted mess of a room he got the feeling, that he had quite messed things up.